beneath the sheets
by thelightningstrike
Summary: She's not strictly his type and he isn't hers, either. RitaxJames, for the Bizarre Pairings Competition.


**A/N:** Written for the Bizarre Pairings Competition by Nanaho-Hime. My song was Samson by Regina Spektor, my prompt Truth, and my pairing RitaxJames. I hope you like it! It took a lot of work and while I'm not overly fond of the end result, there are certain parts I like. I called it 'beneath the sheets' because it shows the real Rita behind the barbed comments and stories she has written, and also because it's part of a line from the song, haha.

* * *

beneath the sheets

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first_

She's not strictly his type and he isn't hers either. He favours russet red hair and sweetness and she is acid-tongued and blonde; she likes rugged and handsome and he is boyish and clumsy. If their mothers weren't best friends, they wouldn't even know each other. He's a year younger than her and this is the first reason she should stay away. She wants to believe that she doesn't want him (_he's known for slippery fingers and broken pieces_) but like every other girl in the school she's a fool for his charm. There's something about him, in his incessantly messy hair and his zealous attitude to life (_take as much as you want and give _nothing_ back_) and his "Rita, darling," which sounds so sincere even though she _knows _he's only making fun of her.

i.

They don't even mean to kiss, the first time they do. They're sat in the Quidditch stands on a cold October morning- she's a sixth year, he's in his fifth, but he's already Quidditch Captain and she's already Editor of the Hogwarts monthly newspaper and it's only natural she should do a feature on him as the whole school descends into Quidditch fever.

He's blabbering on about how good his team is, about how they honestly and truly will win the cup this year, and she's jotting it down as fast as she can into her notebook when she accidentally knocks her inkwell onto the floor, the ink splattering both hers and James' shoes. She freezes, mortified, not knowing quite how to react- then James starts to laugh and before long she's laughing too, really laughing, like she hasn't done for ages (_not since, actually, she was best friends with James_). And then they're turning towards each other and James' hand is on the small of her back and then his lips are on hers and they're kissing _(and it feels so wonderful she could burst with happiness)_.

Then they stop, and James is grinning at her- and she blinks back to reality, gathers her things, and runs.

ii.

As children they play house. She, as the mother, pours the pumpkin juice from an enchanted teapot that makes the liquid glow in different colours; he, as the father, whirls twigs about pretending to fight off evil villains that threaten their home under Mrs Potter's dining room table. Once, James picks up his father's wand for a whirl and sets the table alight- Rita can't forget that as she screams beneath the flaming table, it's James' small hand that clasps hers to drag her out.

iii.

Everyone knows James is in love with that Lily Evans girl. It's just... there, underlying everything, this obvious and extreme adoration he has for her, and Rita can see it too. She pretends, in her clandestine meetings with James, where they kiss and talk and while away countless hours together, that she doesn't care that they are only 'friends with benefits'. She pretends that she doesn't care that he's in love with someone else; she pretends that she is not in love with him. Rita has always been a good liar.

iv.

"You know, in some lights, your hair could be red," he says, his eyes twinkling at her. She's laid flat on her back and he's laid on his side looking down at her, cupping her face with one hand. He smoothes a strand of it with his thumb.

Her eyes flick open. "I don't think so." She looks at it herself, the flaxen blonde locks spilling onto her shoulders. "It's definitely blonde. _I'm_ definitely blonde." She is indignant- she is nothing like Lily Evans, no matter how often he tries to compare her to her.

v.

"Does anyone know about us, James?" she asks. They've met up in the empty Quidditch stands where they can be sure that, because of the snowy weather, they certainly won't be seen. Rita has charmed an umbrella to float above them and they're wrapped up in blankets drinking hot chocolate James got from the kitchens.

"Sure," he says, and her heart speeds up. "They know we were childhood friends, everyone does."

"You know that's not what I mean," she blurts before she can help it. James grows still beside her.

"Rita-"

"No. No. I want- I want people to know about us, James. I want to be able to hold hands with you in public, to call you my boyfriend. Why can't we have that?" She hates that nobody knows that they're together, _JamesandRita_, an _us _rather than a _me _and a _you_. She hates that nobody will ever know about them _(they won't go down in history.)_

"I've told you- I thought you knew we were just having fun."

"Having fun? Is that all this is to you?" She pulls away from the comfort of leaning against him, knocking over the hot chocolate.

He looks down at the hot chocolate cup as the liquid, now lukewarm, begins to seep through their shoes. He looks up at her defiantly. "Well that's how it started, isn't it?"

vi.

_Rita,_

_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh- I would never want to hurt you._

_James_

vii.

Rita doesn't reply. She ignores him completely, cutting him out of her life as if it's the easiest thing she's ever done. She churns out more articles for the newspaper, starts doing better in class and even finds the time to write to her parents. She tells herself she doesn't miss him. The truth is: she's never missed anyone more.

The truth is: she loves him.

viii.

She'd told him once. "I love you, James." Simply put but sincerely felt.

"No you don't. This is just... an infatuation."

He managed to convince her. Of course he did- she loved him.

ix.

She hears that James and Lily got together a little after she gets her first job, at Witch Weekly no less. The fury she feels, the deep hurt, translates to a fierce article about Stubby Boardman, the lead singer of the Hobgoblins, a band she had brought herself to loathe because James liked them- readings of that week's issue soar and Stubby's reputation goes down in flames. She develops a taste for scandal and the more she hears of James and Lily, the more articles she churns out. People ask her how she can be so spiteful and she can never reply. The truth is that beneath all these nasty articles she just a blonde girl with a broken heart. She gets a promotion by the end of the year.

x.

"What are you doing here?" She can't understand why he's stood there, a foolish smile on his face and his hair in its typical mess, in her recently acquired office. "Get out."

"It's lovely to see you too Rita, I've been great," he says as she pushes past him, dropping her satchel on the floor beside her desk and sinking into the chair behind it.

She rolls her eyes. "I wasn't joking. I have things to do. Get out."

"Yes, like writing scandalous articles about people? Like ruining people's careers?" He sighs. "I've come to invite you to my wedding."

Her eyes fall to the pale envelope in front of her, her name embellished so delicately on the front. She stops- _breathing, thinking, listening, existing_ _- _and James stares at her.

"I want you to be there."

She frowns, finally reacting. "I can't believe you. _I can't believe you._"

"What can't you believe? Rita, I've known you all my life. Why wouldn't I want you at my wedding?" He's incredulous; she wants to slap him.

"We haven't spoken to each other for a year and a half, because of something _you _did, and you have the cheek to show up here and invite me to your wedding?"

"I'm sorry, Rita. I did write to you and try to talk to you. I didn't know what else I could have done."

"I wanted to be something other than just someone you could get a quick secret snog out of whenever you sodding wanted, James. I wanted you to love me, like I loved you." She's proud of herself for saying loved. She doesn't know whether it's the truth _(and pretends she doesn't care.)_

James opens his mouth and then closes it again, shaking his head. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me you loved me. I know you did."

"I've only ever loved Lily," he says, and his pathetic, idiotic, foolish honesty makes her want to throw up.

She blinks to stop tears falling. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you."

"Rita- you know it wasn't like that- I just... love her. I can't help it, it's just _in_ me- how can I explain?" He pauses, thinking. "Have you ever felt that someone is the very reason for your existence?"

She looks at him pointedly. The air between them grows thicker and he lowers his eyes. "Oh."

She hands him back the invitation and walks over to the door, opening it for him to leave, waiting beside it so that she can close it behind him. He lingers for a moment, looking at her sadly, and she bites her lip in another desperate attempt to stop herself from crying. She deals in other people's heartache, never her own.

As he walks past her he pauses, briefly, as if trying to think of something to say; as if wanting her to look at him. She doesn't, just bites her lip harder and harder as the tears are welling up so much her vision is blurred.

"Goodbye, Rita," he says, and squeezes her hand with his. She closes her eyes, and when she opens them, he's gone.

As she closes the door and walks slowly back to her chair, the tears falling quickly now, she manages to choke out: "I loved you first."

xi.

_In our exclusive interview with up and coming reporter Rita Skeeter, we talk about life, love, and lessons. We learn, amongst other things, that her favourite lesson at school was transfiguration, she failed her apparition test the first time by splinching herself (leaving just a toenail behind!), and she's only been in love once, and considers it a downfall. Grab next week's issue to read more and find out what makes our favourite reporter so magical!_


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